


Asinine

by Ranusoren



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Sickfic, Unrequited Love, hmm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 12:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13030782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranusoren/pseuds/Ranusoren
Summary: Hanzo Shimada is dying, and it’s all Jesse Mccree's fault.Well, technically-- it’s Hanzo’s fault. He was the one who, foolishly, stupidly, had to go fall in love with his coworker. He didn't even get to enjoy the crush like a normal person, before; the realization of his love and the flowers came back to back.





	Asinine

_ What’s the saying? _ Hanzo thinks bitterly as he crouches over the toilet,  _ Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all? _

Another wave of intense coughing wracks his body-- he hears the seeds rattling around in his lungs, he feels the tickle at the back of his throat. He clutches the toilet bowl like a lifeline.

_ Bull fucking shit. _

He wretches and wretches, each movement sending a flare of pain throughout his chest, until finally, finally the blooms reach his mouth and he can reach in and  _ pull _ . It’s agonizing. He tries not to scream as he grabs the roses and yanks, thorns scraping the inside of his trachea raw as the vines that are invading his lungs are pulled free.

Eventually he gets all of the plant out-- there were two, this time. Two red blooms stare up at Hanzo from inside the toilet; he can’t tell what’s rose petal and what's his own blood.

He feels vaguely sick, a funny, hollow sort of feeling in the pit of his stomach. All of this was futile, he knows that-- tomorrow the vines will be back and he will do this again. Eventually there will be more, too many for him to manage, and the thorns will puncture his lungs and he will die.

Hanzo loves and has loved, with his entire heart, and has lost in the worst way possible.

\--

Hanzo Shimada is dying, and it’s all Jesse Mccree's fault.

Well, technically-- it’s Hanzo’s fault. He was the one who, foolishly, stupidly, had to go fall in love with his coworker. He didn't even get to enjoy the crush like a normal person, before; the realization of his love and the flowers came back to back.

He remembers the day in vivid technicolor. It was after they’d flown back in from a mission in Kings Row, when he was back in and alone in his quarters. He’d had the worst cough for about two weeks, and an impending sense of doom had followed him like the plague.

The realization came first. It had happened in the airport, while they waited for their flight to take off and Jesse had fallen asleep. Hanzo had caught himself staring, and ducked his head in embarrassment. Sitting in an unfamiliar airport, Mccree asleep beside him, blush colored Hanzo’s cheeks as he realized he was in love with Mccree.

So when he was throwing up rose blooms that same day, he knew who they were for.

He remembered that first time, when he collapsed on the floor of his bathroom, coughing and gasping for air because he couldn’t fucking breathe. He’d ripped out the plant too fast and the thorns snagged in his throat, taking with it bits of gore as it left his body.

Hanzo isn’t sure he would have been more scared if he hadn’t realized what was going on. He was pretty damn horrified, despite the fact that he knew what the bloody flower on his bathroom floor meant and how much he deserved it so.

Most people have heard of Hanahaki disease, usually from one of those ‘medical mysteries’ television shows. Most people watched it and learned about it and thought,  _ wow, thank God that’s not me _ , before tucking the information away and eventually forgetting it.

A disease borne of unrequited love-- almost sounds romantic, but there’s nothing romantic about how flowers invade the victim's body, killing them slowly, until  _ finally _ the plants puncture an organ or something equally important, and the victim dies.

Hanzo had been scared, at first. He wasn’t ready to die, there was so much he still wanted to do--  _ needed _ to do-- he never left his room those first few days, missing work because he couldn’t force himself to get out of bed.

Jesse had tried to get him to come out, of course, asking if he was alright. It was only natural. They were teammates, Mccree needed his archery in missions but oh how it made him want to scream, because Mccree’s kindness, Mccree’s friendship,  _ Mccree _ was killing him and the other man was completely oblivious.

And yet-- he still found himself completely, helplessly in love with him.

A year later and that fact hasn’t changed. Hanzo doesn't think anything in the entire universe could change that fact-- sometimes he thinks that maybe he’ll stop loving Mccree, but then he will smile or laugh and Hanzo will have to excuse himself to go heave up flower petals in the other room.

Hanzo can feel the end approaching, now, knows he only has another year if he’s lucky. And it still scares him, but the panic attacks and random sobbing fits that would overtake him in those first six months were gone, for the most part.

Sometimes he wonders if Mccree will miss him, but has to stop himself before that train of thought gets very far. All it does is make the thorns sharper.

\--

They aren’t working on anything that day, and instead Hanzo and the others are trying to pinpoint their lead on Talon. It feels nice, being with Angela and Lena and Winston-- and of course, Mccree is there as well. If Hanzo closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that it’s two years ago, when he was an outcast to everyone, living in shame and humiliation, and he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to feel loved again.

Then he opens them again and meets Mccree’s dark eyes, launching him back into the terrible present. He feels it start-- today had been so good , he’d barely had any problems-- with the pressure building in his chest. The seeds that rattle around in his lungs have gone quiet, but Hanzo knows that isn’t a good thing.

He doesn’t look at their faces as he runs to the bathroom--but he passes Genji on the way there, and sees the look of concern through his visor. Hates to think that if he knew that look would be pity instead.

But he doesn’t think about that then. He can barely think about anything at all because he can’t breathe, everything feels like it's on fire as his lungs scream at the lack of oxygen, and he's coughing and coughing but all that comes up are petals. He wants to claw at his own throat, knowing the blooms are  _ right there _ , and he could breathe if he could only get them  _ out _ .

After what feels like forever, his hacking dislodges the flowers and he can rip them out. He doesn’t get up, even as he sucks in that precious oxygen; he’s not totally sure his legs would work.

“Hanzo?” Genji’s familiar voice enters the bathroom, and despite the sudden anxiety he has over him finding out, he can’t force himself to get up off of the floor. He rounds the corner and knows the moment he sees everything, the blood, the flowers,  _ everything  _ .

“Oh my God,” He mumbles, moving to help him up, “Brother, I-- what--”

“It’s called Hanahaki disease,” His voice is hoarse and miserable, and he stands shakily, “But it’s-- I’m--” The words  _ I’m fine _ lodge in his throat and he can’t get them out, and before he knows it tears are welling up in his eyes and Genji is pulling him into a tight hug as he sobs.

They stand there like that, in the men's room of Watchpoint:Gibraltar. Hanzo crying and crying because there’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants to tell Genji but he can’t find the words.

Finally he quiets-- he knows he must look like shit, eyes red-rimmed and mouth covered in blood. Genji looks up at him with that damned pity in her eyes and it makes Hanzo want to throw up all over again.

“Are you dying?” He asks, and Hanzo can’t do anything but nod, the lump in his throat blocking any attempt at speech. He sees the tears in his brothers eyes and it just adds to the feeling of sickness that seems to be spreading throughout his entire body.

He moves away before Genji quiets, lost in his thoughts, going to clean up in the bathroom mirror. His reflection stares back at him with red eyes and bags so dark they almost look like bruises. Red blood is caked on his chapped lips.

He coughs again, a horrible hacking noise that lasts about five seconds and makes his mouth taste like metal, before turning on the faucet and trying to clean up his face, hands shaking all the while. He hears Genji’s vents start racing behind him, and his heart aches.

Hanzo knows that when he finally dies, it will kill the people around him. All his friends, the family he thought he lost long ago, will have to stare at his cold and lifeless body-- it makes him want to start sobbing again. They don’t deserve this. Genji doesn’t deserve it; Winston, Lena-- none of them deserve it.

Mccree doesn’t deserve it.

He feels sick again, and leaves the bathroom before Genji can ask him more questions. The group he was with is gathered outside of the bathroom, looking at him with worried expressions. Mccree’s eyebrows are furrowed and Hanzo catches the concerned look on his face.

They don’t know he’s sick. Hanzo’ll have to tell them one day, but right now he is shaken and in pain and he doesn’t want to see the pitying, sympathetic looks on their faces as he explains that he’s dying.

He doesn’t want to tell Mccree, specifically. Knows he’ll get the inevitable  _ Who? _ Hanzo doesn’t want to tell anyone who’s the cause of the vines that are slowly choking the life from him-- it’s humiliating, and Hanzo would never want Mccree to blame himself for his death.

He pushes past the group, pointedly not looking at anyone, and goes back to his desk, before gathering his belongings and leaving. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now, and the ever-present pain in his chest is flaring up again, and he just really wants to curl up in bed and be alone.

Hanzo hears Mccree calling his name as he’s walking out of the building. He ignores him.

\--

Genji becomes the most informed person on Hanahaki Hanzo knows in the month after he learns about it. He knows he must spend hours upon hours reading about it online, in medical journals, looking for something,  _ anything  _ .

There is nothing, and he tries several times to tell him that. He tells him that his search is a lost cause-- he’s been looking for months, and has accepted the fact that there is no cure to what’s killing him. He wants to grab him by his shoulders and tell him to give it up, that what he’s looking for doesn’t exist and he’s only getting his hopes up.

At first, Genji had tried to keep him updated on what his search, would tell him new information when he had found it-- but all it did was make him irritable, and every so often he would lose his patience and snap at him, telling him to let it go already. That his search is futile.

He stopped updating him, after a while.

Hanzo knows that he’s still searching, despite everything he’s tried telling her. One day he catches him on his lunch break, the bright look on his face that’s been missing the past two months returned in full force. He beckons him to sit down with him.

“There’s a cure,” His cyborg body is a bright green and his tone is so hopeful-- he narrows his eyes in suspicion, but motions for him to continue, “There’s this doctor in Ireland who has figured out how to remove the flowers from the lungs of people with Hanahaki-- it’s all really experimental stuff, but it’s worked on every single patient so far. Hanzo, brother, you can live--”

“Stop,” Hanzo’s voice is shaking, his hands are shaking. He’s too jaded for this, he knows good and damn well that this is too good to be true, “There has to be some kind of catch.”

His green armor fades dark.

“There’s a… small catch, I guess, but it’s worth it, I promise,” He sounds slightly desperate now, his voice still cheerful but it sounding a little more forced, “When they remove the flowers, your romantic feelings towards whoever caused them in the first place will disappear. They’ll just be gone, and… there’s a 75% chance that all your memories of the person will disappear, too.”

There were a few beats of silence.

“Absolutely not,” Hanzo says, voice firm-- he’s thinking of Mccree, of his lovely voice and warm brown eyes, of his inquisitive nature, of his beautiful smiles, “Never in a million years.”

“Brother, please ,” Genji’s voice is wavering and he grasps Hanzo’s hand tight, “You don’t understand what you’re saying, you can’t-- I can’t lose you too.”

I can’t lose Mccree , he wants to say. But he can’t. He doesn’t know.

“Stop,” He tells him, voice cracking; he feels tears threatening to spill, “Stop, Genji. I’m not doing the surgery. Not with a price like that. Don’t-- don’t try and convince me. Please. This is the one thing… I won’t-- _can’t --_ lose too ”

Genji looks like he wants to say more, but Hanzo abruptly stands up and leaves the break room. His head is spinning, and a familiar pressure is building up in his chest.

Some part of Hanzo knows that he should go through with the surgery, for his loved ones’ sake, but… but he is a selfish man. He wants-- no, needs to cling to the love, the person that’s killing him for as long as he can.

\--

Hanzo tells Mccree he’s dying on a rainy Wednesday afternoon.

It started when they were halfway through a talk of Mccree’s past in Deathlock; they had been laughing about some mission that went horribly wrong when Hanzo’s ever-present cough came back with a vengeance. He hacked and choked until it started coming up red and he couldn’t breathe again. Mccree watched in horror as Hanzo bent over a trashcan and tore two bright red, fully grown roses out of his throat.

There’s no way to hide it, after that.

They go back to the commons area and Hanzo goes to lie down on one of the couches in the office. Every part of his body hurts, and he almost tells Mccree to go away when he hears him approaching.

But the scared, confused look on Mccree face is enough to stop him. He’s holding two mugs of tea and Hanzo’s heart pangs because of course he is-- he’s always so thoughtful and wonderful and Hanzo suddenly wants to start crying.

He doesn’t; he takes the mug and doesn’t shift away as Mccree settles down beside him. There’s a couple minutes of companionable silence, the only sound Hanzo sipping at his tea, before Mccree speaks up.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” he says, voice quiet.

Hanzo wants to say _ I will be dead within the next year  _ . He wants to say  _ the flowers in my lungs are there because of you _ . He wants to say  _ I’m in love with you and it’s killing me . _

“I’m sick,” He says instead, words barely above a whisper, “It’s… terminal. Incurable.”

There’s a hitch in Mccree breathing but Hanzo can’t look at him, he knows that if he looks over Mccree will be giving him those soft, sad eyes and Hanzo figures he would break down on the spot if he saw them.

“Hanzo…” Mccree is touching his arm and his voice is gentle, but Hanzo can hear the tremors in it. Hanzo’s skin is on fire where Mccree is touching him, but he knows Mccree has no idea. He’s so completely naive about what he does to Hanzo.

The lump in Hanzo’s throat makes it difficult for him to speak, so instead of replying he just shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore right now. Mccree, thankfully, seems to understand and doesn’t press; he just moves closer to Hanzo so that he can hug him.

Hanzo leans into the touch, heart catching in his throat when he hears Mccree start to cry. They don’t say much after that.

\--

Mccreen spends the most time with Hanzo, more than even Genji. Even when they’re not working on missions, Mccree’s usually not far. Hanzo tries not to get his hopes up with fantasies of Mccree suddenly confessing his love, the flowers disintegrating as Hanzo’s love becomes requited. He knows it’s not going to happen, but that doesn’t stop his brain from hoping.

He can feel the end fast approaching, and he tries not to let the fear overtake him. Tries not to think about how he’s weak almost all the time, how every time he manages to get one flower out another appears. How he’s going to die, and it’s going to be soon.

It’s not all bad, though. One day, Mccree surprised him by pulling him aside as they were getting off of work and telling him they were going to get dinner together, and going to a local fair afterwards. Hanzo had no say in the matter, and he let Mccree drag him to some fifties diner south of the base.

It’s easy to forget about everything when you’re sitting with the man you love, laughing and eating greasy food together. Despite Hanzo knowing it’s not a date, it feels like a date, and for a moment Hanzo lets himself pretend that he’s not sick and Mccree likes him back. Mccree even insists on paying the check, despite Hanzo’s protest.

He wants to grab Mccree’s hand as they leave the restaurant, interlock their fingers together-- he doesn’t, of course, but that doesn’t stop the aching desire within him.

They go to the fair nearby and it’s the most lighthearted Hanzo has felt in two years. He doesn’t cough once the entire time.

They ride the old, rickety rides that feel like they’re going to fall apart at any moment, they play arcade games (Mccree wins Hanzo a stuffed dragon), Hanzo eats his weight in funnel cake. It’s fun, and amazing and everything Hanzo has ever wanted.

They get onto the ferris wheel, and as it turns, Hanzo’s terrible brain is quick to point out how romantic it would be if they were dating.  _ We aren’t _ , he reminds himself, averting his eyes as Mccree smiles at him,  _ we never will be. _

After they leave, the car ride back to the base is somber. As the giddiness of their evening fades, he feels the sobering reality settle back down upon them like a weight. Neither of them know what to say, so they just allow suffocating silence to fill the car.

Hanzo doesn't get out immediately when Mccree stops the car in front of the apartment complex. He’s at a loss for words; what is he supposed to say?  _ Thank you for the nice time tonight, but I’m still dying _ ? And then suddenly--

Suddenly he’s crying and he can’t stop, sobs wracking his body and tears streaming down his face. Mccree holds his hand and whispers pleasant things that aren’t true and don’t mean anything--    _ You’re okay, it’s all going to be okay  _ . It only makes Hanzo cry harder.

He doesn’t want to leave this, doesn’t want to leave Mccree or anyone else behind. He’s so scared to be without them, to be alone. To  _ die _ .

Slowly, he gathers himself. Regains his composure and wipes his face with his sleeve. Mccree pulls him into a hug and Hanzo thinks that his face might be a little wet, too.

Mccree asks if Hanzo wants him to stay over for the night. Hanzo tells him  _ no, he’s fine for the night _ . He gets out of the car and tells Mccree goodnight and thank you, and then Mccree had into his building.

Hanzo makes no move to go inside, and instead stands alone, watching him walk across the walkway go. After Mccree is out of sight entirely, Hanzo takes a deep breath and disappears into the apartment complex.

\--

Hanzo Shimada dies the next Friday morning.

Mercy had found him in the hallway coughing up blood and rose petals; his heart stopped in as they made it to the medical room.

He is buried two weeks from that day, in an ornate coffin, underneath a sakura tree. He is in a suit, a couple of red roses tucked lovingly into the breast pocket.

Mccree cries when he hears the news, he doesn’t sleep every single day before the funeral, and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling or the slight tremors in his body during the service and the burial. Seeing Hanzo’s dead body, knowing Hanzo would hate the suit and the roses, breaks something inside of him.

And when he coughs up violet petals that night, he knows exactly who they’re for.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm depressed.


End file.
